


Don’t Go

by Cefhclwords



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Fighting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 06:21:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19126357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cefhclwords/pseuds/Cefhclwords
Summary: They could talk about this right? Try it again without the screaming, he could go sit down next to Dele and see what happens.He could.Based on the prompt: “please don’t leave me”





	Don’t Go

They aren’t fighting, not anymore anyway- the house is so eerily silent that Eric almost misses the sound of them shouting at each other that had ceased a few moments ago.

Eric’s ears are ringing and his face was hot as he stared at his feet, hands shoved away into his pockets. The tendons in his arms were trembling, and he wished he had something to sink his hands into, something to do- at all anything, the energy rocking through his body was on the edge of unbearable.

Eric swallowed and tried the trick his mum had taught him when he was younger. He’d flown into a fit of anger when his brother had destroyed one of his favourite football jerseys, heartbroken that something he loved so much was treated to carelessly by someone else. His mother had told him to take ten deep breaths and imagine the feeling draining out the bottom of his feet right into the floor.

The trick had worked day, and almost every time since. Taking ten deep breaths and picturing the feelings of anger and hurt following out of his body, ensuring it no longer filled him- rarely it wasn’t enough to bring Eric back to a calm level in any situation.

He focused now and did his second set of ten deep breaths, tried too hard to picture this feeling, boiling red and ugly emptying from him. The haze of emotion won its war and Eric gave up on his mum’s advice, guessing this feeling couldn’t be told to leave.

This cut too deep, it had sunk into his skin like tattoo ink, pushed right through to touch blood. He couldn’t let it go because it had already started to become a scar. None of this would fall away in the wash.

Eric reached up to scrub a hand over his head, ignoring the burn behind his eyes as he looked over to the kitchen. The untouched plates of lasagna sat sadly in the centre of the bench, steam rising off them.

It almost looked like a crime scene, Eric thought- in a weird way, an abandoned moment of peace. When someone goes missing from their home, violent interruption of what could have been. A dinner set for two, a sense of domesticity and warmth wrapped in the notion of a dinner together. That had gone missing too Eric supposed, the couple sitting down for dinner wouldn’t make it tonight.

Jesus, Eric was going to start crying about lasagna. He walked into the kitchen, his bare feet quiet on the floorboards. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dele flinch slightly as his sudden set into movement.

Eric ignored it as he reached the kitchen, he took a roll of foil from one of the draws and wrapped each plate carefully, ignoring how hard his hands were shaking.

He took a single deep breath.

With the plates and almost full dish placed in the fridge, Eric took a moment to close his eyes.

They could talk about this right? Try it again without the screaming, he could go sit down next to Dele and see what happens.  

He could.

But he was so tired, he was so tired and scared and maybe he wanted Dele to come here. Maybe he needed Dele to say the first words of reason after the screaming stopped. Maybe he just didn’t have it in him this time to pretend that what Dele said shouldn’t be forgiven easily.

Eric closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over them, stifling his breath by sliding his hand over his mouth, brow trembling in as tears gathered in his eyes, three streaking hot down his skin, one after each other.

Ten deep breaths, Eric gave him, wiping his face with his shirt, standing up taller, hands gripping the kitchen countertop.

Ten deep breaths Eric gave Dele, willing and wishing silently his brain begging. Just come here, just come over here and kiss me, tell me you never meant that and show me that that’s true, come over here and be the one to show me you can fix this too.

On his tenth exhale, Eric felt his vision blur and his blood pound hard in his ears. Okay then.

Eric exited the kitchen, not looking at Dele as he walked over to the stairs. As he climbed up to Dele’s room, he caught the sight of him out the corner of his eye, sat on the couch with phone in hand, barely even moving as his dumb seemed to hover on the illuminated screen, never quite moving.

Eric tugged on his black hoodie and leather jacket, pulling the hood up as he rubbed at his tired eyes once more.

He stood in Dele’s room, quiet and looked at the bed, rumpled from this morning. He reached out and brushed a hand over Dele’s side of the bed, remembering how he’d woken up, head on Dele’s chest, all tangled up.

Crime scene Eric thought again errantly, the affection there had gone cold and in just this few seconds Eric wasn’t sure he knew how to find it.

Eric shoved his phone and his wallet into the back pocket of his sweats, hooked his keys over his ring finger, just above his knuckle, holding them in his fist to avoid them clinking together.

His eyes scanned the room once more, and Eric tried to remember if there was anything else he needed; but his heart was kind of fucking hurting and he wasn’t sure if sick feeling in his stomach, the way it felt like labour to even breath meant he was going to cry or throw up.

Both options sounded equally bad and he decided that despite the fact he had items all through the room, a few draws in the dresser, a toothbrush in the bathroom, his body wash, aftershave- laptop on the end of the bed- he was leaving. 

With quiet steps, Eric made his way downstairs, head down as he walked toward the large black front door.  

Slow footsteps behind him make his gut twist, a painful sick feeling of anticipation throbbing somewhere near his ribs. He didn’t have the fight in him, not again, not after half an hour of tearing into each other. 

If not from the emotional exhaustion, then simply the fact his throat was kind of sore from the yelling.

“You’re um- you’re gonna go?”  
The words punch lower than Eric expects, lands with more damage than he wants to let it. 

Fuck Dele, fuck Dele because he’s fucking mad at him, he’s mad at him and he won’t let a few words, spoken small like Eric was the one that took it far, melt that away.

Eric turned, keeping his eyes low as he nodded, the movement a bit jerky but repetitive, blinking twice quickly.

He could say yes, he could say see you tomorrow, he could say tell me why I should stay. He could say I don’t want to, I want to sleep in your bed next to you but you’re making me do this.

 

Instead, he twists the knife a bit deeper.  
“Don’t really want to stay here do I?” he keeps his voice cold, words clipped, hesitant to give too much in case it all just spills out.

Out the top of his gaze, trained somewhere to the left of Dele’s feet, he sees him flinch.

Fuck him, fuck him for acting like he’s the only one being hurt here, fuck him for playing sad when his words had been acidic and biting, no trace of hurt or fear as he tore apart Eric moments ago.

Fuck him most of all, Eric thinks bitterly, for making Eric want to comfort him, for making his stomach lurch at Dele being upset, wanting to hold him close and tell him he doesn’t mean it.

Eric returns his eyes to his own feet, thinking he could really make sure he put on some shoes before he left. He also thinks that he hasn’t thrown up or cried yet, so he can bag those two as wins at the very least.

“Are um. I can stay in the guest or-” Dele coughs, seemingly losing the sentence.  
Eric wonders if he just stopped caring to try and make Eric stay. The thought is born from bitterness but sticks nonetheless, in the back of Eric’s mind to pick apart later.

“It’s not a lack of sleeping arrangements so much as I don’t want to stay here Dele I want to go home” Eric speaks clearly and feels his fingers twitch again.

Dele stays silent, the hallway feels a kilometre long.

Just as Eric decides he should just go, stop picking at this wound that was already open and bleeding- Dele scoffs, Eric, looking up at the sound to see Dele roll his eyes and wave a hand out in front of him, head shaking side to side, as if to say point proven.

Jesus Christ, he loved Dele like he couldn’t believe sometimes, but at this moment Eric felt disgusted towards the man in front of him. 

Was he a fucking child? Was this a joke? Was all of this- them worth trying to be right.  
Eric scrubbed a hand over his bread, fingers scratching at his beard. A bitter laugh escaped him before he could control it.

“What Dele? What do you have to say, mate? I’d love to hear the fucking opinion you’ve got about me going home so I don’t have to deal with your childish bullshit.” Eric said, voice low and intense, finger pointing at Dele as he spoke.

Dele crossed his arms and squared his shoulders, licking his lips with a glint in his eyes before he spoke. “Just you know, I finally bring up with you how shitty you’ve been this week- I ask why you’re keeping things from me” Dele explained, voice sharp.

“And you fucking explode about how I must not even know you like that even makes any sense- and and now here you fucking go, leaving and try and tell me you’re not acting different, that you’re not making sure there’s space- enough so that when you-” Dele swallowed, voice suddenly cracking unexpectedly and cutting him off.

“Fuck” Dele grit his teeth, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady his words “so that when you have enough of me, you can go” he draws in a short breath, “don’t worry Eric, I’m sure sporting would love to have you back not like the offers are pouring in here” Dele spits, voice rising.

Eric knows Dele’s petty anger, can see clearly right through the stupid fucking comment about offers, that Dele had aimed low and swung hard, was using all he had to really blow this all up.

He doesn’t care- he doesn’t fucking care what cheap shot Dele childishly chooses- throwing a silly comment about football when that couldn’t be less important right now.  
But the first part- the first part, surely Dele was joking.

“Fuck you Dele” Eric barked out, voice sharp as he curled his hands into tight fists, practically trembling as he tried to control himself.

How can he fucking say that, how can he look Eric and tell him that he was creating space between them, that he’d been weird all week because he was creating an escape plan from Dele?

It sounded like a sick joke.

That, that wasn’t fair.

It’s not like he’s only spent the last eleven months trying to show Dele he wasn’t going anywhere.

So no that wasn’t fucking fair to say because Eric had been trying, loving him the best way he could and hoping in the deepest part of him every day he was enough to make Dele feel safe.

It wasn’t fair because he was the one showing Dele he was going to stay every day- when he woke up next to him and pulled him close to his chest, Held his hand a little tighter even when the other boys piled into the change room, uncaring of what they wanted to make of it. In how he learned to cook Dele’s favourite dish from when he was young, really young, one of the things he had actually had to hold on to and remember childhood. When Eric kissed his eyelids as he fell asleep.

The way he cared for Dele, was impossible to hold back, it fell into every part of his day, it felt like it was spilling out of him half the time; like Dele’s name should shake out from under each step, every swing of his arms, like his touch should leave a smudge of Dele’s name behind.

What an idiot he was then, to think that Dele could feel that, that Dele would let his fears and issues be proved wrong.

“Did you ever once fucking think that there could be a distance between us because you only ever give me a measured amount of you. Because you think that you are destined for some great fuck up- that you’ve assumed I’m going to let you down?” Eric was crying now, and fuck he guesses the one win had was gone, perfect.

“Don’t you think I feel the pressure when you joke about your life being a revolving door? That I don’t notice when you talk about the future its only ever your future, not ours. That it doesn’t terrify me to see what those fucking interviews with your mum do to you? That my heart breaks that someone didn’t love you like you deserve?” Eric held his breath, hanging his head back for a moment.

“You don’t have to want to be with me forever Del, not if you don’t want to- but you have to trust me. If we are going to do this, be with each other I can’t feel like you’re waiting for me to prove that I’m like everyone else” Eric sniffled and scrubbed at his eyes “Fucking talk to me Dele. I need you to talk to me, I need you to want this to work”

“Fuck you Eric” Dele spat right back, the response surprising Eric.

“I love you- fuck” Dele pressed his hands over his face, gathering himself “I love you so much and it’s not easy? You don’t think all of that isn’t even harder for me?” he was shaking now, shoulders trembling.

“You can’t expect things to just change because you love me. There are parts of me that might not change, I will always look out for myself first” Dele swallowed, eyes red and wide. “Eric I- I’ve never had this. I can’t promise you something perfect when I’m figuring it all out I- I’m sorry ok I’m sorry that I said you’d leave but I can’t lie to you and I can’t say that I don’t think that sometimes- but that’s mine to carry ok?”

Some of the fight had left Dele now, eyes tired as and voice rasping. “You can’t control that Eric it’s irrational and it’s mine and it doesn’t fall on you” he sighed.

Eric took a small step closer and swallowed around the lump in his throat, “I want you to be happy Dele I want you to feel safe with me- I. I just don’t want this fear of it falling apart to stop us being as happy as we could be because you do, you make me so happy” he breathed, “I want to make you happy too”. 

When did all of this become such a mess, he didn’t even know what he could say now, where to go from here.

“Please don’t leave me” Dele said into the silence, voice so quiet it was like he barely let the words out, eyes closed and head tilted down.

“I think” Eric stepped in front of Dele, slowly tangling one of his hands with the boys. “I think we need to- we’re tired and we can’t just keep going like this” he mumbled. “I think we should talk about it tomorrow, what we need from each other to make this work”

He pressed his forehead to Dele’s, heart breaking when he felt the shivers of Dele’s breaths, his own tears wet on his face. 

“I’m not going to leave you Dele and I’m sorry if I’m not showing you that in the way you need, but I can’t feel like every day I have to make sure I’m being enough to let you know that and I should have told you ok?” he explained.

Eric knows now, he’s been putting this on himself too, it was both of them, the expectations weren’t really just from Dele, but ones that he pushed onto himself.

“Yeah” Dele mumbled, squeezing Eric’s hand once, moving to press his face to Eric’s throat. 

“But I don’t want to fight I want to talk and I need you to be honest, to tell me things ok? So we can make it right” Eric explained, “and I will too” he promised.

“Bed?” Dele asked then, sniffling a little bit.

Eric sighed, he wanted to, desperately, but he knew if they fell into bed together, the temptation to be together, to heal it with touches and kisses, forgive and comfort each other would be overwhelming. He knew they’d let it slip, it would be too easy to let it pass as a bad fight. Eric had to ensure this was spoken about, that this wasn’t just patched over but properly mended.

“Del, I think I should still go, just so we can think ok? Have some time to settle and then tomorrow I’ll be here early, probably before you even wake up and we can talk about it all” Eric explained, worrying at his bottom lip.

However, Dele nodded, understanding Eric’s point, even if the idea of him walking out the door made him feel a bit sick.

“Okay” he breathed, taking a small step back.

“I love you Del. More than anything, that matters okay? I’ll be back tomorrow” He promised.

“Tomorrow” Dele whispered back, eyes sad. 

“Love you too” he added, wanting Eric to know- even if they left things on a weird, kind of painful note, he didn’t want to leave it angry.

Eric leant forward and caught Dele’s hand in his cheek, leaning over to catch Dele’s bottom lip between both of his, just for a second.  
“I’ll be back soon” Eric said softly, turning to leave before it would be impossible to resist staying.

Eric won’t admit it (even tomorrow, when he turns up to Deles at six am, two coffees in hand, ready to talk about all of it) that he sits in the driveway for fifteen minutes after he walks out the door that night. That he watches carefully as each of the lights flick off, one by one till the one in the bedroom finally dims, secure in knowing Dele was in bed safely.

Only then does he pull away, tears spilling up and over as he drives home, hoping the words come easier tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Read more/ send any requests to my tumblr: Cefhclwords :) hope you enjoy!


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